Transitions
Summer to Fall, High School to College. Adjusting to change is both exciting and unnerving. How I'm using my hand, head, and heart to drink in each moment and navigate new stages
It's September. This summer has been filled with sunshine, creativity, connection, birthdays, seasonal celebrations, and rejuvenation. Now, ahead is the equinox and Michaelmas, signs of the changing seasons. Change is everywhere - in light, water, sky, and each of us.
Some aspects of the summer season continue throughout all seasons. My yoga and one hour morning walk anchor each day. If you follow on Instagram you may have insight as to why this is important to me. I love this time in my day. Time to ground, thank, think, reflect, observe, feel. My heart is most open. My heart beat accelerates. My eyes seem clearest. I feel complete, whole. All is all right. My pulse beats in unison with the rhythm of the Earth. And, my eyes notice the smallest details. Details that could easily pass me by. Dew dripping off leaves. Variations of yellow on one flower petal. Grooves on the outer bark of an Oak tree. The smell of petrichor. The tuffs on the foxes ears as she runs past me.
The Warmth of the Summer Sun
For the past 30-years I have been very diligent about sun protection. Sunscreen all the time, sunglasses when outside, and minimizing sun exposure. As a teenager in the early 1980s lots of bad decisions were made in the sun. Baby oil when tanning was probably the worst. Then came the years working outside in environmental/outdoor education. Years of sun damage, so I committed to doing my best to prevent more.
Here's the thing. I love the way the sun warms my skin. And, I do love the natural glow of my skin when it has been in the sun. I feel alive, positive, and connected to the world when the sun touches my skin. My focus is on safe sun exposure and I am fortunate that my pigmentation is such that I don't burn, I turn brown.
This summer I gave myself permission to let the sun once again kiss my skin and my eyes. I walked in shorts and tank tops, letting the warmth of the sun reach as many parts of me as possible. My sunglasses stayed home, unless absolutely necessary, which was rarely. The terrain of my walk includes a blend of complete sun, dappled light, shade trees so I experienced the sun differently throughout many points on my walk. I experienced it differently on my skin as well. My shoulders drank in the sun and turned a bold shade of bronze, my forearms a softer brown, and my legs a patchwork of light and dark. All a reminder of the different ways I move in and interact with this beautiful world.
I’m holding on to this sun exposure as long as I can into September, and am endeavoring to figure out how to continue it as much as possible as the season changes and the darkness grows.
This summer felt different from other summers
This summer felt different from other summers, not just because I once again let the sun touch my skin. Summer has always been a special time. School closes and the pool opens. Freedom. All day explorations. As a child it was a time to build intuition, resilience, strength, skills, all by doing "kid things" — bike riding, swimming, trekking through the woods, traversing streams, overnight summer camps, night games.
When August came our family stopped what we were doing and went on vacation. I understood as a child that once August came it was time to shift. A shift from the frenetic, busy summer to rest, reflect, slow down. Our family would slow down, go on vacation, and rest. Vacations were quiet times, times to immerse in the ocean, rest on the beach, read books, etc. It was also a time for my mother to take a break from the daily routine; a midyear recognition of all she did for us.
My dear husband and I have continued this tradition with our children. August comes and we transition to a slower, more restful pace and place. This summer was different. For the first time, this slow down happened in July. July, the height of the summer and summer activities, and we put on the brakes. Our oldest left for her first year of college in early August so, in an effort to maintain recognizable rhythms, we headed off to the cabin in July.
At the cabin, life once again transformed to 1978. Meals around the table together, loud chatter and laughter. Games. Reading. Puzzles. Knitting. Story telling. Star gazing. Night walks. Canoeing. Swimming. Campfires. Truth be told, its not that much different from an ordinary day in our lives except that there is no school, no work, and no opportunities for television or wifi.
What makes this change so wonderful is the silence and boredom that becomes available when work, school television, and wifi are left behind. Silence for reflection and boredom for creativity. The silence gives each of us a much needed chance to exhale, to let go of the hectic life of most days. While the boredom provides so many opportunities to be creative in what we do.
Seeing the kids being creative together, like when they draw together on the porch while I knit, fills me with such a rush of positive emotions that sometimes I feel my heart may explode. In an effort to hold onto these moments, I strive to record the image in my memory. The way the sun hit the porch. The turn of one’s leg as she stretched out, resting her hand on her chin, and drawing with her other hand. The way the other held her paint brush at just the angle she wanted. The look of calm and focus on both of their faces. A moment to hold onto as long as I can.
For all that this summer was the same, it still felt different from other summers. This was likely the last time our summer vacation break will follow this familiar pattern. Our oldest is 18 years old and off to college. There is no guarantee that next summer she will even come home or be available to go with us.
These 18 years have gone so quickly. When she was born I was in my last year as an assistant principal. I didn't know it at the time but within six months of her birth I would be appointed principal of an amazing magnet high school. My return to work at a full throttle pace, was only successful because my dear husband was able to coordinate his work life and the writing of his dissertation - he was able to be home every day with her. When his dissertation was completed we shifted once again and found a new flow to navigate family life together.
What I learned a long the way is:
the importance of attention. Taking the time when the time is needed. Paying attention in the moments that make up the little events of daily living. I knew I would make it to the concerts, games, performances. Paying attention to the individual moments - tending to scraped knees, catching ponies in fields, reading a book together, simply snuggling. These were the moments that mattered the most.
the importance of rhythms and connectedness to the web of life. Since our children were born we have endeavored to create routines and rhythms for our daily lives. The rhythm of our daily life is based upon intention, the breath, and flow, while connecting to the rhythms found all around us on this Earth. Rhythms help create comfort, security, consistency, and brings stillness in times of stress.
Our rhythms are reflected in how we approach the days, weeks, months, years, seasons, celebrations. At the same time, rhythms are guidance. There is no requirement, there is no right way to do it. Rhythms are there to provide scaffolding around the day. Or, an even more apt way to think of it, they are a comforting warm blanket to return to over and over as needed.
the importance of trust and space. Watchfulness from a distance. Trusting the kids to explore and find their path. And, giving them the space to do so. This trust only comes from developing intimacy which in turn develops deeper trust. Giving them the space they need to learn and grow came easily to me. In turn, I had to give myself the space to be open to them when they came to me about my experiences.
I had all of the space I could ever want when growing up, but my mother didn't have the space within her to be open to me, and she did not have that with her mother. This was a cycle that I was determined to end. Together we have modeled this trust and intimacy within our relationship, and now they are able to carry it forward. Together we have broken a cycle that fragmented mother-child relationships in our family. Now, they are able to continue that change and create their own narratives based upon trust.
the importance of connections and community, especially intergenerational connections - grandparents, special adults, elders. Our children did not know their grandfathers, they had passed away long before they were born. While our children developed strong and positive relationships with both of their grandmothers, their grandmothers passed away within three years of each other. Other family elders were few and far between.
Intergenerational relationships can provide a shift in understanding about the each generation that generates empathy, compassion, and understanding. Over the years we intentionally joined in community in ways that would connect our children to elders - church, nature centers, schools. Our most intentional action was adopting our family elder six years ago. He comes to all celebrations, Saturday dinners, significant events in our children’s lives, takes them shopping, on long walks, and out for ice cream.
The benefits have been far reaching, physically, mentally, and emotionally - the exchange of ideas, perspectives, knowledge, skills, activity, care, laughter, and love. The relationship that has blossomed between them is simply joyous.
Now as our oldest moves through her first year of college, a time so full of growth and change, I am confident that she has the tools and skills to figure out what she is passionate about and what she wants to explore. And, I am excited to continue to be there to support her, encourage her, and grow with her.
Adjusting to this change is exciting and unnerving at the same time. Forever drinking in each moment we have together using my hand, head, and heart to navigate this new stage.
Using my hand, head, and heart to drink in each moment and navigate this new stage
Hand - It’s official, I’m a grandparent to plants; 28 of them to be precise. When our oldest left for college she had a big decision to make - which plants to take with her and which stayed in her room. Her dorm room has one very small North facing window. Most of her succulents stayed home, all of the baby plants rooting in water, the very large plants, and ones deemed too sensitive for travel also remained in her bedroom.
That left 28 for me to tend, and believe me, that’s a lot of pressure. I know they must all be in excellent health when she comes home for Fall Break or I will be in big trouble. I was provided photos with directions for each plant. Of course, they are not all on the same schedule. Some are watered twice a week, some once a week. Some shower and bathe in the bathroom once a month. Some get spritzed. One needed to be re-potted. All need to be talked to every day. There is a lot of research that shows that tending and caring for houseplants eases signs of stress and increases positivity and mindfulness.
I have written in previous posts about how I make sure I connect my hands to the Earth as often as possible. Gardening has been a part of my life as long as I can remember. Most of my gardening and plants are outside, I have very few plants (10 or so) in the house. I suspect its due to the orientation of the house and the sunlight - I have to be very intentional about what type of plant and its location.
Our oldest’s bedroom is different though, she has South and West windows that suit her plants very well. It’s fun to take care of all of them for her. The act of tending her plants, also keeps her close. It’s something we do together now.
Head - Her college has assigned The Optimist’s Telescope: Thinking Ahead in a Reckless Age by Bina Venkataraman as the summer reading for the incoming class of students. Every year the college selects a book to inspire conversations across campus. The college then brings the author to campus to speak to the entire campus community. Questions and prompts are used throughout the First-Year Seminar course to provide guidance and perspective. In this spirit, I am reading the book with her and I am really looking forward to seeing the conversations it generates between us.
From the back of the book: “The Optimist's Telescope, she draws from stories she has reported around the world and new research in biology, psychology, and economics to explain how we can make decisions that benefit us over time. With examples from ancient Pompeii to modern-day Fukushima, she dispels the myth that human nature is impossibly reckless and highlights the surprising practices each of us can adopt in our own lives--and the ones we must fight for as a society. The result is a book brimming with the ideas and insights all of us need in order to forge a better future.” For more on the book visit: https://bookshop.org/shop/acrunchylife
Heart - There is no formal, practiced rite of passage for heading to college. There is one for the end of high school (graduation), and there is one for the end of college (graduation). It seems to me that the launching into college is also a rite of passage that needs to be honored.
In the place of a formal process, I found our oldest navigating through her own self-created transition process. And, my role was so different this time around. She was the prime mover of this process. She turned on her diffuser and pulled things out of every drawer, off every shelf, and out of her closest. She sat on the floor and touched them all, knowingly reflected on them, and then made a decision - to college, to storage, to repurpose, to donation.
She was in a liminal space of her own making. A threshold, a place between what was and what is next in her journey. An organic process that probably meant more to her than a proscribed ritual since it was embodied and enacted at a deep, personal level. And, as she did so, my role was to sit with her, hold space for her, and support her process and decisions.
It was the hardest and most hope-filled experience for both of us.
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